


The designers and the cooks

by sanity_not_in_tact



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Forgery, She's a graphic designer, don't get your hopes up i'm a busy woman, like me, low-level agents being fucked around by Coulson cos he does that, may be made into a series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 23:38:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3466289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanity_not_in_tact/pseuds/sanity_not_in_tact
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coulson doesn't always do what he's told, and is known amongst the lower-levels as one to put people in awkward situations, no matter how insignificant they may be on any regular mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The designers and the cooks

“Why the *hell* do you need me to forge a painting, and why are you the one to give the order, Agent?”

“Forgeries are being sold on the black market, supposedly by the modernist painter Franklin Quell, through an anonymous source which we tracked down and took care of months ago. We need to convince the buyer that the deal is still on so we can further investigate into the organisation buying and selling forged artworks without creating suspicion.”

“Okay... two more questions: why is SHIELD suddenly concerned with a case of petty forgery, why have you come to me with this... and, once again, why are you the one to give the order?”

“That's three questions.”

“One of them is a question I already asked and you've been avoiding ever since. Let's start with that.”

“Classified.”

“You're ignoring authority again, aren't you, you big hypocrite-”

“Can you forge the damn paintings, or not?”

“I'm not an artist, Ace. My job is tracing little pictures of birdies for your badges and the stupid gold plaques you idiots insist on screwing to your office doors-”

“I've seen your work before, miss Jones. I know what you're capable of.”

“Do you have any idea how much shit you're about to bury me in-”

“It's hardly the most dangerous task you've ever been set-”

“I beg to differ-”

“And why is that?”

Jones looked at her superior like he'd lost his mind. “You have no idea about the laws around forgery-”

“I have agents out on the field risking their lives-”

“Yeah and they're level 5, 6, 7? And they're trained specifically for dealing with extreme situations under stress -- I'm just a freaking graphics designer! You have to realise that if I get caught, I'd be starting a war against the US government and therefore between SHIELD and, well, SHIELD. I could shut the whole system down and I don't have any training in-”

“Just please consider it? Your name won't be published, I can promise you that.”

“It's not my name I'm worried about.”

“Well then what are you worried about?”

“I'm not a forger. I don't know if I can pull this off.”

“We can judge that for you, and we'll have it destroyed if we deem it unsatisfactory.”

“Who's 'we'?”

“Classified.”

“Right, 'cause you don't want your superiors discovering your tendency to cut around corners like a stupid pre-teen covering up or the stolen chocolate bars-”

“I'm not here for caricatures, Jones.”

She sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes. “When did you get so bad at following orders, Coulson?”

“Probably after I nearly died following them.”

“Which time are you referring to?”

Coulson gave her one of his infuriating 'I don't think you're funny' smiles.

She threw her hands in the air “How much of a pay-raise am I gonna get for this?”

“Your request.”

She put her hands on her hips, throwing him a 'you asked for it' smirk “Double-time.”

Coulson remained unfazed “Thank you, miss Jones. You have my word that your name won't be mentioned once, and I'll have you deported back to England under a false name should the worst happen.”

“Do you have any idea how long it took me to perfect this damn accent?”

“I wouldn't call it perfected.”

“'Course you wouldn't.”

He pulled out a note pad with the SHIELD logo branded on the front and started flipping through it “I've written your brief down by hand, but you'll want to be careful not to leave it lying around.”

“You know what I was thinking when I designed he covers for those things?”

“What was that?”

“What the hell kind of an idiot has a branch of note pads designed with our damn logo blazoned on the cover in gold-leaf? So that the enemy can more easily identify that the notes were taken by a SHIELD agent? Oh, and we'll make it gold so it's easier to see in the dark.”

He looked up at that “My idea.”

Jones blinked “No disrespect, sir – actually, scratch that – you're an idiot.”

“Hey, I helped design the supply of invisible ink-”

“No, you didn't. You gave the brief to a bunch of our best scientists and had them design and make something that's already been designed ten years ago as a children's toy for writing about middle-school crushes in their little pink diaries.”

“But this isn't blacklight ink-”

“Same concept. And it's pretty easy to crack.”

Coulson opened his mouth, and then closed it again.

“I know your head is filled with bright ideas, Agent, but I suggest you leave the nick-nacks to the professionals.”

“How would you design the cover, if you had no brief?”

“I'd have a durable silicone cover designed not to open unless in close proximity to the owner's ID card, and which would destroy it's contents if forced open – and it would most definitely not have our damn identity branded in gold leaf. In fact, I'd aim for it not to look like a note pad at all.”

Coulson stood up to pour himself a scotch, sloshing the canister in Jones' general direction in offering.

“No, thank you, sir. I tend to make stupid mistakes if I get a little tipsy on the job.”

“Listen to you, trying to sound all American.”

“Am I doing a good job?”

“Good enough.”

“I wonder why I bother. I could have a nice job working for some Chinese noodle bar back in the UK – not only do their branding tactics often need a lot of work but it'd also a job very unlikely to get me killed.”

“Rather dull though?”

“Precisely.”

“'Exactly' would be a more likely word.”

“Means the same thing.”

“Don't use 'indeed', 'precisely' or 'quite right' too often.”

“Do you think I'm from the middle ages? Nobody anywhere says 'quite right' anymore.”

“I admit to not being as cultured as you are in these areas.”

“Have you even heard of the BBC?”

“Of course. They partner with the ABC quite often. And I've heard 'quite right' used in BBC programmes.”

“Of course you've only heard of it through the *American* Broadcasting Corporation. In what context did you hear the term used?”

“Downton Abbey?”

“And what period is that set in?”

“I see your point.”

“Will that be all, Agent Coulson?”

He tore a few pages from his notebook and handed them to her. “It's not rice-paper, so don't choke on it-”

“I'm not gonna make the same mistake as Skye, remember I designed that thing.”

“Right. Report back in under a month, if you can manage it. A quick search should give you enough information to forge a Quell. If you put this USB in your drive and use a private window even SHIELD shouldn't be aware of it.”

“And how, exactly, did you come across this device?”

“Classified.”

“More like illegal. There's no way they'd even give a level nine clearance to something like this-”

“That'll be all, miss Jones. Enjoy your pay raise.”

She sighed again and straightened her posture as she left Coulson's office, throwing the guard an innocent smile on her way out.

//What the bloody hell is he getting me into now?//


End file.
